


New Perspective

by tennou



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Burn, Stupid Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6851419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennou/pseuds/tennou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer after Matt came back, it seemed as though the halls were in a constant flurry of whispered rumors and speculation. Foggy's just looking forward to seeing his friend again.<br/>---<br/>High School AU where Matt didn't go blind until halfway through high school, and now he's back to finish up senior year with Foggy. Foggy feels like something is off about his old friend (aside from the fact that he can't see anymore) but he can't quite put his finger on it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a few months ago and just now got around to finishing it, so I figured I would post it. I just love me some cheesy high school AUs and oblivious teenagers. It's my first time writing for Daredevil, so I hope you enjoy it!

The summer after Matt came back, it seemed as though the halls were in a constant flurry of whispered rumors and speculations.

The kid who’d gotten a face-full of chemicals while trying to save a guy crossing the street was coming back to school, after a year out of commission.

Foggy tried to block out the inquisitive onlookers, the faces silently asking what he could tell them about the mysterious hero boy who’d made such a major sacrifice for someone he didn’t even know.

But Foggy wouldn’t tell them anything. They didn’t deserve to know, and Matt wasn’t some kind of circus show they could ogle when they were bored.

Of course, that brought him back to the main issue at hand, which was: even if he did want to tell them anything, he couldn’t. Because Matt hadn’t called him, or made any kind of contact with Foggy since the accident. It hurt, yeah, but Foggy understood. He wasn’t really in a place to hold it against Matt.

But he could’ve at least…sent a letter, or something. Right?

He shook his head. Whatever. What mattered now was that his best friend was back in school after a year, just in time for senior year, and he would probably need a friend to help him get back in the swing of things. Foggy was determined to be that friend.

 

●    ●    ●

 

There had been a lot of speculation surrounding the exact extent of Matt’s injuries, but almost all of it had to be taken with a grain of salt (more like a pound, if Foggy was being honest). No one could claim to know for sure, and Foggy didn’t want to meet Matt with any kind of warped misconceptions.

But he had kind of been expecting the worst.

Which was why he felt some relief when he turned around and saw his best friend, looking good as new, walking towards him with a cane in his hand and a smile on his face.

“Matt!” Foggy couldn’t help the grin in his voice. Miffed as he had felt at the radio silence for the past year, he was still excited to see his best friend, unharmed.

Well. Mostly unharmed.

Foggy stopped short of his giant bear hug, taking in the indoor sunglasses. And the cane.

“Hey Fog,” Matt greeted, a little quietly. He seemed…hesitant. Cautious. Like he didn’t know what to expect from Foggy.

Foggy ran a tongue over his lips.

So Matt was blind. Understandable; he’d gotten some weird chemical shit in his face and it was actually probably a miracle there hadn’t been more damage. Considering the extent of the radioactivity of the chemicals, Matt had actually gotten really lucky.

So he was blind. So what? At least he was _alive_.

Foggy grinned back.

“I see your face is still as pretty as ever, even after a face full of chemicals. Lucky bastard.”

Matt broke into a grin at Foggy’s familiar teasing. “Sorry about that. I know you need all the help you can get with the ladies.”

Foggy groaned, but his heart felt light. It felt just like old times. It was like Matt had never even been gone. There were still some curious onlookers, staring openly at Matt as though him being blind meant they could abandon all sense of social convention, but Foggy knew that it would all pass over by the end of the first week. The attention of teenagers was fleeting and fickle. Soon they’d move onto the next spectacle.

“Um…” Foggy frowned. “Do you…have a guide dog?” he asked, uncertain. Matt simply smiled at him.

“I figured I’d be able to manage at school without one.”

Foggy shrugged even though he knew Matt probably couldn’t see the gesture. “Fair enough. Let’s get to class then, buddy.” He paused before extending his arm to Matt.

He felt a familiar trip in his heart beat when Matt took it with a smile, that stupid smile that spread across his whole face and crinkled his eyes at the corners. So Foggy’s hopeless crush on his best friend was still there too.

He saw Matt’s smile falter for a second, a strange look coming over his features.

“Something wrong?” Foggy asked. Matt took a second to grab his bearings, before shaking his head.

“I’m fine,” he reassured. “Let’s get to class.”

Their first few periods were full of people tiptoeing around them, too scared to ask the questions they wanted to but too intrigued to leave it alone. It resulted in a lot of staring and whispering, and Foggy was kind of glad Matt couldn’t see it.

“Are there really that many people talking about me? Or have I started hearing voices in my head,” Matt asks with a wry smile, trying to keep the situation light.

Foggy sighed. “It’s pretty _rude_ , yeah,” he said pointedly at a pair of girls that had ventured a little too close. “But you can’t say you didn’t expect this when you decided to come back. I mean,” Foggy paused and pushed the baked beans around in his lunch tray. “You didn’t contact _anyone_ for a year. It was kind of…worrying.”

A look of genuine remorse passed over Matt’s features.

“I know, I get that. And I’m sorry, Foggy. Really. My intention was never to make you, or anyone, worry about me.”

“A postcard would’ve helped,” Foggy grumbled.

“I know. I should’ve said something,” he said, before placing a hand over his. Foggy tried not to visibly jump. He ignored the jump in heart rate as best he could.

Matt, on his part, got that weird far-off look on his face again. He cocked his head and his brows furrowed like they did when he was really thinking hard about something.

“Matt? Matty?” Foggy pulled his hand back, because it was getting kind of weird now and a lot people were staring and they already had enough rumors about them being gay lovers that they didn’t need to add any more fuel to the fire. “You okay?”

Matt snapped back to attention and shook his head, giving Foggy a charming smile.

“I’m fine. Sometimes I kind of…zone out, but it’s fine. Doctors said that’s normal.”

Foggy frowned. “If you say so.”

He didn’t eat much for the rest of their lunch break. Matt’s smug “cat that got the canary” expression was throwing him off, and he’d kind of lost his appetite.

 

●    ●    ●

 

“What do you think about him, Foggy?” Matt asked. His voice carried that same hesitation that it had held on his first day back. “About…the Devil.”

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had surfaced the summer before senior year, and it would be wrong to say that he hadn’t caused quite a stir.

It would also be wrong to say that everybody in school hadn’t already picked a side. It was pretty evenly split, with equal parts of people supporting the Devil, condemning him, or not giving a shit about it either way. Not even the teachers were exempt, and Foggy often caught his English teacher arguing with one of the French teachers about the Devil’s motives.

There was even a #TeamDaredevil Facebook group.

So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when Matt asked Foggy what he thought about him.

They were sprawled out across Foggy’s living room floor. His parents had taken the rest of the Nelson brood to one of the kids’ school functions, so they had the house to themselves. The TV had been turned on to some local news channel, and the story was all about the latest of the Daredevil’s exploits. This time it was a group of assholes that had been mugging and assaulting tourists.

Foggy glanced up at the TV before turning back to his physics notes.

“I dunno,” he said, trying for nonchalance. “I don’t really have an opinion on him.” That was a lie. Foggy definitely had some strong feelings on the subject, and he must’ve been really obvious about it because Matt let out a disbelieving snort.

His fingers had stopped running over the braille textbook he’d been able to procure from the teachers. Foggy didn’t know how, but Matt had managed to get a braille copy of every single one of the course textbooks from the teachers even with the nonexistent public school funds. Matt really was something at persuasion.

“You definitely have an opinion on him, Foggy. You have an opinion on everything.”

Damn. He was right.

Foggy snapped his notebook shut and cleared his throat.

“Here we go,” Matt teased with a smile that brought a slight (slight!) flush to Foggy’s cheeks.

“I just think that if someone wants to persecute criminals, they should do it within the confines of the law,” Foggy said. “If everyone ran around taking out anyone they didn’t like, what kind of world would that be?”

“He’s not taking out his own personal enemies though, is he?” Matt sat up straighter. “It’s criminals. Bad guys. And he never actually kills them, just…roughs them up a bit. That’s _some_ kind of order, isn’t it?”

Foggy’s gaze drifted back up to the TV screen, watching the grainy video of the man in black take down his opponents. He was quick, efficient. But still brutal and acting outside the law. He shook his head.

“Having his own personal code of honor like some modern samurai doesn’t mean anything, Matt. ‘Lawlessness is lawlessness. Anarchy is anarchy is anarchy,’ or something. Thurgood Marshall said that.”

Matt just raised an eyebrow, as though asking, Do you really wanna go there? He leaned back, grin spreading across his face. “To protest against injustice is the foundation of all our American democracy.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Okay, I see you getting all excited now but calm down. I’m not going to quote Marshall back and forth with you.”

Matt almost seemed to be pouting. Almost.

“Either way, I still don’t approve of the Devil. I mean, I don’t feel bad for those guys who got their asses beat, but I feel icky about the whole situation. The Devil guy is playing judge, jury, and executioner, and it’s like: we have that system for a reason, you know?” Foggy was frowning by the end of his statement. “And who thought of that name, anyway? ‘The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.’ It’s so tacky.”

Matt fiddled with the corner of a page. “Don’t you think it gives him…an air of mystery?”

Foggy narrowed his eyes at him, even though he knew Matt couldn’t see the expression. “Why are you so intrigued by the guy, Matt?” A slow grin started to spread over his features. “Wait, do you have a _thing_ for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” he asked, his voice getting louder with each word. “Matt Murdock, crushing on the Man in Black?”

Matt winced, and then cracked a wry smile. “Yeah, actually. I think he’s pretty cool. Probably a real ladies’ man, too.” He cocked his head. “You might like him, I think.”

There was something about the way Matt said it that told Foggy there was something more going on, something Matt wasn’t telling him. But he knew he probably wouldn’t be getting anything out of him tonight, at least. So he let it go.

He flopped back onto the floor.

“Vigilantes are criminals in the eyes of the law,” he announced to the ceiling.

“Justice is blind, Foggy.”

Foggy let out a snort.

●    ●    ●

 

Foggy had been crushing on Matt for…oh god, it had probably been _years_ now. He’d gotten pretty good at clamping those feelings down, though. He’d even had a girlfriend for most of last year (even if it hadn’t been the best relationship).

But his feelings were really being tested now, with Matt wrapping his fingers around Foggy’s arm any time they needed to go anywhere.

Matt would hold out a hand, expectantly, and wait for Foggy to give him his arm like it was nothing. Like it was _normal_.

That wasn’t even the worst of it.

It was just that…Matt had gotten a lot more touchy-feely ever since he’d gotten back. And Foggy didn’t hold that against him, not at all. It was to be expected, of course. It was perfectly normal. But his hormone-addled body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo.

His palms got sweaty, his face flushed, and his heart would start jackhammering in his chest any time Matt’s fingers tightened around his arm. Or brushed his hand against his, to see where he was. Or gave him a gentle tap against the shoulder in greeting.

Foggy was crushing hard, and he was miserable about it. Especially since Matt couldn’t have possibly known what he was doing to Foggy either; he was just a regular blind guy trying to go about his day and Foggy was the asshole who had to keep having inappropriate thoughts about him. Sometimes it got so bad that Foggy almost felt like Matt was doing it on purpose.

“Hey, Foggy?” Matt said one day after they’d gotten back to Foggy’s room after school, his voice taking on a strange tone.

Foggy threw his backpack at the foot of his bed before jumping up himself. He raised his eyebrows. “What’s up?”

Matt’s face was carefully blank (which wasn’t hard to achieve since his eyes were covered now. Foggy had never realized how much emotion was conveyed through a person’s eyes). “Do you mind if I feel your face?”

“…Um, what?” Had Foggy misheard him?

Matt gingerly lowered himself onto the bed next to Foggy. “It’s just…I remember what you look like, sort of,” he began. “But my memories of what things look like are kind of…fading. Do you mind if I…?” He raised a hand, hovering around the general area of Foggy’s head until he got an answer.

Foggy quickly processed the situation.

Matt touching his face? Matt touching his face while on his bed? Matt in his bedroom? Matt touching his face in his bedroom while on the bed?

So much potential for things to awry, very quickly. Foggy frowned slightly. He should just say no…

…He already knew he was going to say yes. Because he hated himself and he loved to suffer.

“I guess this a bad time to tell you that I grew another nose while you were gone,” Foggy joked halfheartedly. Matt let out a surprised laugh, which relaxed him a bit. And then Foggy found himself taking hold of Matt’s hand and leading it his own face. His heart was pounding like crazy, and he felt it spike the second Matt’s cold, callused fingers touched his cheek. When did they get so callused?

Matt’s other hand came up to the other side of his face, and Foggy closed his eyes and willed himself to stay calm as Matt mapped out the planes of his face with his hands.

His thumbs traced over his brow bone, down his closed lids to gently touch at the blond, stubby eyelashes. They lingered there for a moment, before meeting in the middle at the ridge of his nose. Down the slid, the rough pads of his cold fingers feeling like heaven against Foggy’s flushed skin. Down his cupid’s bow…Foggy held his breath as Matt’s fingers paused above his lips.

Right. Matt touching his mouth would be too weird, even for them—

Foggy’s internal monologue was cut short as Matt began to lightly trace the outline of Foggy’s lips, just as thorough and careful as he’d been with the rest of his exploration. Foggy let out a tiny breath, and Matt’s thumb caught his open lips.

Foggy might have been imagining it, but he could have _sworn_ that Matt had been about to push his finger into Foggy’s mouth. Thank god he didn’t, because Foggy would not have been proud of what he probably would have done in response. Just the thought of it made Foggy suppress a shiver. He was so screwed.

“Thanks,” Matt said, taking his hands away. His voice sounded rough and gravelly, like his hands had felt against Foggy’s skin. Foggy just swallowed and nodded, before remembering Matt couldn’t see that.

“Oh, uh, I just nodded. You’re welcome, man. Any time, buddy.” He was _definitely_ laying on the ‘pal’ speech a little too thick. But everything sounded heterosexual and platonic once you added “man” to the end of it, right?

Matt licked his lips, and Foggy pretended like that didn’t faze him at all.

“I’m gonna start my English homework,” Foggy stated to no one in particular, as he pulled out his physics textbook. He stared at it for a few moments before deciding, whatever, it’s not like Matt knew what he as looking at anyway.

Matt’s fingertips rested over his braille textbook for a moment, as though adjusting to the change from soft skin to solid, embossed textbook. But then he continued with his studying, and Foggy let out a quiet breath.

 

●    ●    ●

 

Foggy was a good person.

He recycled. He turned the faucet off while brushing his teeth to save water. He did the dishes every now and then. He didn’t deserve to be mugged.

“I’m just in high school!” Foggy was shouting for some reason, as though some desperate dirtbag was gonna listen to reason. The guy had gotten himself a gun and was hiding out in a shady alley for easy prey. It was safe to say he was pretty committed to this path his life had taken.

“I don’t give a shit!” the guy yelled back, which Foggy had suspected, but he had just wanted to take the chance anyway. “Hand over your wallet, Blondie!”

Foggy took offense to that. He was more of a rusty blonde, if anything. A dirty blond. “Blondie” sounded like he was Goldilocks or something.

“Alright, alright!” His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. “I’m getting it.” Joke was on the robber though, because Foggy only had about $7 in it, along with a most-likely expired condom he’d gotten during Sex Ed last year. He’d never gotten the chance to use it with Marci.

Just as his fingers closed around the faux leather casing, he heard the mugger let out a grunt, and then fall to the ground with a thud.

Foggy flinched and clenched his eyes shut out of instinct (and maybe a little fear), so he didn’t see the mugger scramble up and out of the alley in what could have been record timing.

“Are you hurt?” was the next thing he heard.

Foggy opened his eyes, blinking a few times before veering backward at the sight in front of him. 

A figure in black towering over him.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“You—are you…?”

He seemed amused. “Yeah. I am. That is,” he said, stepping closer to Foggy as he backed up against the alley wall, “If we’re talking about the same thing.”

Foggy swallowed. His mouth felt very dry all of the sudden. “Th-the Devil?”

The man smiled. “That’s what they call me.”

Foggy was…terrified. If he was being honest. And that probably wasn’t the best thing for him to be, because when he got nervous, he had a slight, irritating tendency to…babble.

“You’re here, in this alley. You hit that guy, the robber, the mugger—isn’t that a strange term? Have you ever thought about why people call robbers muggers? I’ve never really given it much thought, but then again, there are a lot of terms that I don’t think about a lot. Like tea. Why is tea called tea? And—”

Foggy was cut off when a gloved hand was placed over his mouth.

“Sshh,” the Devil whispered. He cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

Foggy’s heart rate ratcheted up even higher (he didn’t want to speculate on whether the cause was the potential danger or the Devil’s hand on his mouth). He shook his head, eyes wide.

The Devil smiled. Bloodthirsty.

“It’s the sound of you babbling like an idiot.”

Foggy’s indignation cut through his tension, and he shoved the Devil’s hand away from its place on his face.

“I ramble when I’m nervous, okay? Some people cry, some people laugh, and I…talk too much.” He arched an eyebrow, trying to look more put-together than he was feeling. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re not exactly the friendliest face in Hell’s Kitchen.

The Devil’s smile dropped, to some unrecognizable expression. It might have been more discernable if Foggy was able to see his eyes, but alas. He had some thick black cloth tied around the top of his face. _Really_ thick, actually. Could he even see out of that thing…?

The Devil pressed closer, if that was even possible. And Foggy’s breath caught in his chest. And then…The Devil’s nose was grazing Foggy’s flushed cheek.

He held perfectly still (well, as still as an eighteen year old boy was able to be), even holding his breath as the Devil’s nose slid down the side of his cheek and along his jaw. He had no idea what was going on, but he didn’t want to ask and risk startling a man who could (allegedly) take out three thugs twice his size in under five minutes.

“Are you scared?”

Foggy knew from those shitty self-defense seminars that the school district had held a few months ago that you should never display fear to a possible attacker. Right when they scented blood in the water, they would strike. Don’t ever give them that advantage.

But Foggy found himself nodding anyway, because this was not some poorly-funded self-defense seminar; this was real life, and his heart felt like it was about to burst in his chest.

He felt the Devil smile against his skin.

“You should be.”

“Are you…going to kill me?”

At that, the Devil abruptly pulled away, as though electrocuted.

“Why would you even ask that?” he questioned. He sounded almost offended. “Murder is a crime.”

Foggy raised his brows, and could not believe he was actually having this conversation. “Well, no offense, but what you do isn’t exactly _legal_ either, if you haven’t noticed.”

The Devil cocked his head. “I believe in what I do,” he said, finally stepping away from Foggy. He turned away, looking at something that Foggy couldn’t see. “I need to go. But…” He paused, as though contemplating whether or not he should say what he was about to say next. “You do what you think is right, and let the law catch up,” he said, and then he was gone.

Foggy’s legs buckled from underneath him and he collapsed in the middle of the abandoned dirty alleyway. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe it. That fucking asshole.”

●    ●    ●

 

Of course Matt wasn’t at school the next day. The teachers said he’d called in sick. Foggy, like the thoughtful friend he was, offered to take him a copy of the notes and homework he’d missed over the day.

Which was how he found himself outside the shitty one-room apartment that Matt was staying in, banging loudly on the door and yelling for Matt to hurry and open up.

Foggy had been surprised when Matt first told him where he was staying, and that he was living alone. But he’d simply told Foggy it was “a long story” and didn’t elaborate any further, and that was that.

“Matt! Open up! MATT!” Foggy almost fell inside when the door swung open. Matt grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you trying to get me kicked out of the building?” Matt hissed. He didn’t have his usual sunglasses on, and it was one of the few times since he’d gotten back that Foggy had even seen his eyes. They were still unfairly pretty. 

He also noted a new bruise forming on his right cheek. 

“‘You do what you think is right and let the law catch up?’” he quoted, walking further into the tiny room. He whirled back around to face him. “You’re—you’re Daredevil!”

Matt instantly seemed ten times more uncomfortable. “What are you—”

“No,” Foggy cut him off, holding up a reprimanding finger. “Don’t play dumb with me. I don’t think Daredevil just _happens_ to run around quoting former Supreme Court justices. And you’ve both got the same body type. And before, when you were getting all defensive about Daredevil’s actions…holy shit.” Foggy ran a hand through his hair. “You’re Daredevil.”

Matt at least had the decency to look sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I meant to tell you…eventually.”

“ _When_?” Foggy asked, exasperated. “After getting killed by some whack-job criminal in the streets?”

Matt’s brows dipped down into a V. “I won’t get killed, Foggy.”

“How do you know that?” Foggy couldn’t believe his hunch had actually been correct. His childhood best friend was a masked vigilante that ran around beating up criminals. He had so many questions.

Matt crossed his arms across his chest, still frowning. “I’m very good at what I do.”

“You’re _eighteen_! And blind! Or was that a lie, too?”

At that, Matt’s expression softened. “Foggy, no, I would never…”

“Lie to me about something as big as that?” Foggy scoffed. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

A muscle in Matt’s jaw twitched. “I wasn’t lying about being blind.”

Foggy waited.

“…But I can still ‘see’, in a way.”

Foggy thought he felt a headache coming on. He sat down on the edge of Matt’s tiny twin bed, trying to refocus his thoughts.

“Just…just tell me what you’ve been hiding. All of it,” he added. “I want to know everything.”

So Matt sat down next to Foggy with a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. And he told him everything.

He went through it all, from the chemical spill, to the rehabilitation, to Stick, to Daredevil. And Foggy sat quietly, taking it all in.

“Learning to fight without my eyes…it wasn’t easy,” Matt said, running his fingers over his knuckles. “But I already had the foundation laid down.”

That much, even Foggy knew. Ever since his dad had died, Matt had always been kind of a boxing nut. It would have been easy enough for that Stick guy (Foggy still couldn’t believe that was his actual name) to teach him how to fight without seeing.

“I never wanted to keep things from you, Foggy,” Matt said, after he finished his drawn-out explanation. “It just…turned out that way.”

Foggy shook his head, still trying to process it all.

“So you can basically…read people’s minds?”  

Matt let out a small laugh. “Not quite that accurate. But I can get a pretty good feel of a person’s mindset.”

Foggy thought back to all the times Matt had made his heart race within the past couple of months and his heart rate ratcheted up at the thought that he’d _known the entire time_.

“So…for example, right now…?”

Matt coughed. “You seem a little stressed. Or excited. Accelerated heart rate is open to interpretation like that.”

“Oh my god,” Foggy groaned, holding his head in his hands. “That’s so _embarrassing_.” He lifted his head, turning toward Matt. “So does that mean…do you know…?”

Matt leaned back on his hands. “What exactly are you asking?”

Foggy let out an irritated breath. “Never mind. Forget it.” It was probably for the best to just act like Foggy _wasn’t_ hopelessly crushing on his best friend. Then they could just go back to normal.

“Is it the fact that your heart beats faster around me?” Matt asked softly.

Foggy froze.

“Or that you’ll stutter if I touch your hand like this,” he said, lightly tapping the back of Foggy’s hand.

“Um.”

The knowledge that Matt really did know this whole time was making his heart beat faster, and the knowledge that Matt _knew_ it was beating faster right now was making it beat even _faster_ and it was all really just a mess.

“I know that your cheeks get warm when I stand too close to you,” Matt said, as he leaned forward ever-so-slightly. His eyes fluttered shut. “Just like that.”

“M-Matt…” Foggy veered back, flustered at the proximity, and Matt took the opportunity to lean forward and press his face into the crook of Foggy’s neck.

“I never noticed how _good_ you smelled before you know,” Matt muttered against his skin. Foggy had an inadvertent flashback to the night before, when the Devil’s face was pressed up against the side of his neck like Matt’s was.

“Th-thank my sister,” Foggy managed to say. “I secretly use her fancy body wash.”

“It’s not that.” Matt’s body was almost entirely pressed against Foggy’s, and Foggy felt himself being pushed backward against the bed. “It’s you.”

Foggy bit his lip. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Matt said, finally pulling away from Foggy’s neck with a wry smile. “I might have a little crush on you too.”

Foggy gaped. “On _me_? Why?”

“Because. I don’t know, I just like you, Foggy. You’re caring. I know you act like you’re an inconsiderate ass sometimes—”

“Hey!”

“—But deep down, I know you care,” Matt finished with a grin. “And you’re always making me laugh. Intentionally or otherwise. And you’ve got a great smile. I can’t really see it anymore, but I know it’s there.”

Foggy swallowed roughly. “Damn, you’re really head-over-heels for me, huh?”

Matt laughed. “Oh, definitely.”

“Well. Good.” And with that, Foggy reached up, and did what he’d been wanting to do since Matt got back: kissed the hell out of him.

It was messy, and there probably too many teeth involved (cut him some slack, he hadn’t kissed anyone since he’d broken up with Marci) but it was perfect because it was with Matt. Sweet, blind-yet-not-blind, vigilante Matt.

Oh God.

“You’re gonna put me through hell, I know it,” Foggy groaned when they broke apart for air.

Matt responded with a wide, shit-eating grin.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll love it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos if you liked it would be amazing, and comments are always really nice to read too. Thanks for reading!  
> [starfudge](http://starfudge.tumblr.com/)


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